Foxes
by Foxes' Dreams
Summary: "Truth is hiding somewhere and is exclusively my mission to discover it!". But, in the society which is hypnotized by misery, who can you trust?
1. Chapter 1 - Preview

**Chapter One - Preview**

**Author's Note **: I tagged this story with Once Upon a Time, because Emma Swan is the inspiration for it. In order to find out which link is between Emma and Fallon(the character will appear). This is a huge POV that combines Fallon's feeling with Emma's. You'll see some OUAT quotes!

I dedicate this story to my best friend whose name will become a character and who encouraged me every second to work out my talent.

_Life is riding a bycicle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving-Albert Einstein_

Here I am, here I live, here I gonna find my end. I confront in absolutely every day of my life with the endless influences, happily shared by society, supplied by the anger and the strenght of the submissives. All I need is a miniscule drop of escapade in order to open my eyes and to see the abstract from normal, the light from the end of the tunnel and also the sincerity which is hidden by the thick cloak, with a waterproof layer of the imposed superficiality.

Reality slapped me once in a moment of vulnerabilty. I will be always grateful for that gesture. Everyone is fated to suffer, even if the reasons aren't enough in order the sentecing to be final. But, we always see optimism. If your heart is broken, it means it still works. The power to surpass our condition appears from nowhere, it rises us to the final point, but it withdraws its divine, delicate, light like a feather touch in the moment we are capable to take flight on our own, to get out from the unknown. Despite the fact that we are leaving with the open soul to a world in which the dissapoiments are on the first place, not even a trace of remorse appears when you fight with ardor to counter the complex mentality of the people who in the second day already got out of your horizon contoured by the expectations that nobody consideres them dame.

Liberty is the experience which has a maxim intensity, it gives one last boost to the Apogee, a deep ideology to defend our limits. Absolutely everyone neeeds a high as sky departue, far-away isolated from the normal world, properly hidden from the merciless eyes of the watchers. I, with my own hands, open the door to find a magical corner which even if I don't imagine, my heart's keeping the sdecryption secret of judging after a brief moment of analyzing. People gonna tell me my whole life who I am, but I'll always answer them with this quote :" No, this is who I am", because behind the thick wall which surrenders my body lies a dreamer, a creator, a revolutionar, but not in the end a person. A kind of person who after long experiences, decided that everything will be browsed from the first minute to the last. With the last scent of energy and also tear, I look at life from a different angle, full of positive emotions and I know that I have the wish to show what a complex personality I keep under my sleeve.

Even if I find the motivation to rebuild my body, a single little thing is repetting with an ironic musicality in my mind: "why?". In the most important day of my life, I received a hard punch from the subconcious. Everything made sense in that moment, but I was denying with firmness the belief in that ghost. Reality was begging me different. I won't remind the fact that the fear was flooding my body, I was feeling that I don't belong there and despite the fact that I was arguing with the eyes wide-shut, sending silent signals that were fading in their way. This is life, but it goes on, no matter at what trials we are subjected to.

Now, in the final stage, I realize that I've been a lover, a fighter with limitless powers, in order to see that somewhere lays still the paradise, too.

Nothing lasts forever, and so is my experience which is surrounded by a intense sensation –undescriable in words- has got to the dead point. With my hand on my heart and ready for a possible sacrifice, I wanted to spend another instant immersed in undreamed memories, printed with cold ink on the skull, an invisible gift cu irreversible meaning, fully set to an end which is showing its face in the last hour, a face that gived hope to an issue that is really smiling.

This is how my story starts, the first time when I have the chance to take the gamble and see what's out there, waiting for me.

**Author's Note** : A lot of paralels with Emma Swan(I wonder why). This is her POV before she takes an unbelievable shot. More action in the second chapter! This is a 30-chapter story! Follow to keep in touch with this fan fiction. Next chapter-next Friday. Thank you reading!


	2. Chapter 2 - Lila

Chapter 2 – Lila

"Like trying to keep a fatman out of the refrigerator. Lila" – Robert M. Pirsig

A lot of people aspire to an ideal, but there are a few who take the jump of courage and reach the moment in which they need to duel with the obstacles that put to the test in mysterious way almost all the inherited, equipped or acquired virtues and strategies. I hate the clichés. Everyone states that they're living their life in pink, that they're happy and they don't need anything else. I, on the other side, consider that my life respects totally the palet of purple. Presenting a volcanic character, vulnerable in the same time, I find the power to model my mentality according to the circumstances. The same fact is applied to the lila. It passes from a peaceful, delicate shade to a flashy one, filled with strenght to exprees itself. To get to the carefully planned point, I afirm that my name is Fallon, but everyone calls me Foxes, making a paralel to my original strategy to camouflage, to get out from limit situations, that wait for us at absolutely every corner of street, armed with a lethal dose of temptations. There are a lot of thongs that need to be said about me. Actions speak louder than words. In order to make an impression about my body, long deprived of any punch, I can say that is fragile, able to break in a moment. I look a bit like an albino, my hair being trapped in the same pale spell, flooding in fuller, asymmetric waves. The eyes, which betrayed thoughts more than enough times than necessary, are two charcoals, implanted with the help of holy, with the stately force of genetics.

The past, on the other side doesn't seem to be so spotless and carefully arranged like the exterior layer, which is involuntary hypocrite, creating the image of a fighter. I wish to be one. It's hard for me to confess and without any grain of exaggeration I state that I've never been loved. Life offered me enough times to prove this, maybe too many, or it takes the place of a workout for the still undiscovered, urban society, which is popularized worldwide. Let's start with the beginning. From my first moment of life, I wasn't wanted, and with the help of a guardian angel, I was brought and included in the "foster care" system. Five years after this bitter experience, I had the chance to get into a loving family who offered me an education, a roof above my head and also the parental love that had always missed. And here I am, at the beautiful age of eighteen, "free like a bird of heaven".

My parents decided to move in Japan for an arhitectural project. Meanwhile, I froze my year between high school and college. So, I spend almost all my time being trapped in the curse of loneliness, which seems not to have an annihilation elixir.

But, everything can change in the moment in which your ideologies reach the Apogee and with a slight trace of regret, we take the gamble and start walking in the direction of the unknown, endowed with multiple trials.

To resume in one word, the day light proves to be a good counselor, so in the morning that is bathing in a pool of dares pushed until they reached our faces, I discovered that you don't know from where appears a chance to achieve your dream, covered by the mists of fear, who defend the intellect from a possible fail. So, getting out of bed, with a heavy grace, exactly the opposite of a swan, I'm going to welcome a new day, full of the adrenaline of the unknown from the dawn. Walking with pressed steps, filled with cumulated laziness, I'm heading to the kitchen, which is decorated only with stainless steel, just to find a lonely serenity and also a ticket which is incapable to replace a person. The ticket was announcing my parents' return in the country of earthquackes for a full year, driven by the prominent smell of a financial reward whcih seemed like a considerable one. How I was expecting, I found myself completely isolated in the grand residence, which wasn't crushing a flat, bathed by calderons of happiness. The time was passing rapidly, leaving the exterior and also the interior peace undercovered. Dwelled in a fluffy and warm cocoon of a blanket, I was watching a movie chosen without any serious reasons, which reached the point to make me naseous from the unreal actions, inappropriately placed. Something it was witnessed a deeply monologue which was was capting your attention.

On the background, it was heard the TV which was standing turned on the "at your disposal" news, that were announcing a new, horrible murder, like this event will bring the excitement in our lives. Those informations were completely ignored by my look, while being focused on the final replicas of this masterpiece of mediocity. In the moment before the screen went black, the protagonist afirmed wholeheartidly : "We don't give up on things we love". I was feeling moved, it triggered a new billow of pressure in my body, having the form of a forgotten thought, too rampant to be shared. It look like the cornerstone of an uncertain future, similar to an instantaneous ilusion, a moment that demands to be felt, counselor of the trust that I can reach that "somewhere". At the silent command of the destiny, my look, already deceived by the quotes that are repeted mecanicaly by the mind of the director, changes its trajectory, catching in its orders, fixed with an absoulte mirific view, somehow foreignly placed.

With a pressed voice, a tenor one, it was announced the inform –somehow common- that every lover of adventure, liberty and fun is turning his attention to the famous city, Boston. The announcement was becoming gradually an unique chance, a portal to a blind experience with favorable consequences. It was a memorable moment for my ideology. It was way too atractive to be ignored. So, in a blink of an eye, charged with multiple questions and a lot more numerous reasons, I found the power to get rid of any trace of insecurity and with a noisy fosnet I left behind my carefully-built nest.

Accompanied by a rustling speed, I climbed the slippery stairs, I thundered in my room, which is decorated in a floral vintage style and which I was proclaiming it mine. I was looking desperately for my spacious bag, which in its good days was used to carry proudly the chalk that I needed for my gymnastics classes. Discovering her and grabbing her violently, I put her on my bed and I prepare her, structural talking, for the avalanche of clothes. Taking the bathroom's way and turning with my slim arms full of products, I was feeling my heart in the back of my neck, pomping deafening oxygen and feeling with its unmistakeable soul my vocal cords, which despite the fact that they are now weakened by the adrenaline still work. With a sick appetite powered by the fierce desire to surpass my condition, completely inversely with my medium stature, I start rummaging in the tall closets, made from cherry wood which was touching gently the ceiling, carefully decorated with a pale shade, similary to the colour of buds of Hyacinths. Without caring about any damage, I pack my favourite articles, which are numerous and which are fighting to find a comfortable position in the bag with ridicolous dimensions. Completed by a make-up kit, almost empty and a lot of book, really close to my heart, I perfected the masterpiece of the first step. Just by taking a thicker cloak from the peg, I get out from the stately residence, contoured by sweet memories, defined by reflective inclusions, proper-said my second chance. Without looking back, I step in a whole new world, still hidden for my complex feelings, agressively chipped by tha past, by the life lessons. You need a moment to make a decision and then another ten to realize the possible negative effects. Even after a time that looked like an eternity, I was remaining neutral. A single thing was certain : I was doing the right thing.

By taking my heart in my teeth, I got into the closest taxi I could've found and I asked for a ride to the airport. The backseat of the taxi was pretty old, patched with silk of complememtary colour of the principal background. It was smelling like wear, it was reminding me the old days of my first years, being changed from one family to another like a piece of furniture. Those years were deeply dark, a complete blackness, offering a realistic definiton about life, full of brackets and additional explanations. With an unbearable pressure and a loudy wrestle, I got out of the bent car and I heading inside to realize with astonishment that the fate smiled. I catched the last place in a flight to Boston. I wasn't complete aware that the crime of my own ideology which was comitted started to give me chills. The flame of my wish light every cell of my body, supressing the fear which was induced willingly in my character.

There was no way to exit and I didn't want to be. I was experiencing for the first time an unsure land, contoured by the unknown who was whispering sweet world in my tiny ears.

**Author's Note** : Thanks to my best friend who read my dedication. You made me cry! Literally!

Well, well..Chapter 3 – Friday, 12th September. Please Review! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3 - Weapons

Chapter 3 – Weapons

To take your flight, you need an effort, but to mantain at a certain height, you need an irrepressible strenght, capable to contract your wings in a moment of supreme pain.

Here I am, on the peak of a possible success, trying to make myself comfortable to the limited conditions of a low-cost flight. I was watching the movie which was projected on a minuscule screen in the frontal side of the moving device which was functioning in the air way. Maybe because of the low signal, the images or the scenes, however you want to call them, were moving jerky, provoking virulently criticized giggles in my back which was tense, due to the situation and also to the overwhelming emotions of a new start. Instead, it aroused me a oppressive disgust. I was thinking that the aircraft that is raising like the Phoenix bird to the heaven, had high standards of quality. Nothing goes as planned, but I wasn't even thinking about letting this little snag ruin my trip.

By taking a tacit decision, I agreed to let myself prey to the spell of the thick darkness that's related to the sleep, my imagination gamboling on undiscovred fields, applied in the close future.

In order to skip over the sarcasticly long-built introduction, I say that after aproximatively an "age" in the trap of the invention belonged to 21st century, I reached the paradise, which was created by my own imagination and to be specifically the magical corner purely-american that is also called Boston, the metropolis of the whispered dreams, never brought to life. With the fatigue pulsing on the shoulders that are still in the early stages of the development, I step on the ice-cold marble, and with a node in my stomach which is emphasizing my fear senzation, I head with quick steps over the entrance, miming a plot of an action movie. My life was depending on this step, I was deciding for me, without bumping into the hard words of the skeptics. Unlike the derpatue, my courage was fading quickly, especially now when I was in the warm, dry, semi-dessert breeze of the state of Massachusetts. I was believing that arrival in this place will be a happy one, an almost euphoric one, but in change I was standing completely numb, staring at the exterior, which at first sight it seemed like a normal, boring park, but it was the faithful guardian that was hidding the sublime. Even the nature was reflecting my growing state in which I was dippingin the same time with the seconds that were passing rapidly without turning their metaphoric heades to study my facial expression, always changeable. I remain disoriented, trying to avoid the look of the passers-by who are desperately trying to be helpful. I move from the initial place –for the first time- walking less or more on autopilot. Scouring upside down the streets, without realizing that everything around me is desolated, a valuable clue in order to decipher the next events. Probably my mind and also my vision were playing tricks on me, the essential gas, necessary for the normal living were restrained with bestiality in the central point of interest, which is the shoulder, that is screaming in pain which is generated by the weight of the clothes that were an insignificant detail in this non-comformist landscape.

The peaceful game and also the monumetal silence, really hard to be found these days, were broken without a little piece of pity by the quick steps which determinated my body to experience a short half of weak seizures. It was the mental signal sent by the unconscious in order to take attitude in that moment. With a trace of remorse, and also of fear, I turn my look only for regreting. The new, formed vision made me jump horrendous. With my eyes wide-open, just to be sure that this scene isn't an ilusion triggered by the fire sword of the sun, I try to free the road, to let the tracking take its way and also to observe the driving picture, spun off the unknown. A charming boy, with an attently-sculpured body, shadowed by the oversized T-shirt which was fighting with the hard breathing and the overflown adrenaline in the blood, and also with the attackers that looked like they were trained thoroughly for an armed assault at every hour of day and night. My reflexes were fiercely slowed down, every trace of will of defense was destroyed.

" You'd better run if you had something valorous in that bag!" he was announcing me being serious, giving me an instinctive impulse to defeng my back.

Taking a considerable advantage, he reached a minimal distance of a couple centimetres, he grabs my arm with an incharacteristic force for a teenager, as I was supposing. In the new-composed chaos, I was having the chance to make the difference between the crucial marks of his personality, just studying the powerful grip of his forearm, I was taking hold of this situation with full desire, in which I was involved. The danger was welking progresively, ascertained fact just from the short looks thrown ocassionaly over my shoulder. From the fact that my inferior members were recovering their initial strength, i could analyze better the person who looked in that moment to be my new guardian angel. With a smut-dark hair, specifically arranged in the style of the movies from the old time of the black and white, cramfull of the acrid smell of his cologne which sort of ressembled with the fir. The typical portrait of a convised Irish, completely native, was also helped by the pronunced accent and by the gestures which were similar to the ones of the English type, maybe the noble race. I was concentrating hardly at the rocky, bumpy road, totally specifically for a insecure neighborhood. I was starting to feel a slight senzation of suffocation in the moment in which I was put in the position of an eyewitness who saw an roundup in a block of flats that was presenting an extreme little size, with scribbled walls, in which was sitting in state the stuffiness of dust, unsuportable considering the intensity. Opening the door with a partial-squeak sound, I entered a mytical land, totally strange for introvert person like my own person. With my hands clenched on my body, absolutely all my nails pushed deep-down, ready to leave a scar, I had experienced a senzation that I've already felt, standing in the dusty doorstep , I was thinking that my emotion wasn't a confusing one, only an embarassing one, because four pairs of eyes were controlling me from head to toe, resting aligned simetrically, exactly like the membres of a war cohort. But, as expected, the tranqulity was clogging our existence, none of the figures were exerting their facial muscles or the vocal cords into functioning. Everything was becoming motone, the seconds were leaking indistinguishable, all the things had an interesting dominance : they were quiet and simple like the sky in a summer night.

"It looks like Nives isn't stopping his stupid game!" said the Irish who despite the fact that was covered by the shadow of a curtain, he made it tremble just by speaking with intense voice.

"This happened just beacuse you're walking with the money flying out of your pockets on the empty streets, abandoned by the scared souls, but also locked for the instinctives" afirmed on a cutting tone, the first mate from the line which already curved to the left.

Possesing an alarming-high tone for a short stature, the little blonde with creole skin perfectly echilibred and chromatic, and also arms without a little meat on them, adapted a defending position which was exhaling in its own only power. Despite wearing an all-black outfit, deprived of originality and personality, I could decode her aparently confusion and it wasn't showing in a subtle way. The whole situation was full of tension, an almost finished delirium.

"The circumstances are fleeting, what matters is that you escaped with your head on the shoulders" cloged on a comic tuning in the conversation that was ready to delight our looks with imaginary sparks, the boy located at the row of the eagres, of the detail-eaters.

Probably this is the best moment to insert the quote : "Who is the same gathers around".

With an indimidating attitude and a body that was created from the first time tall, he was bluring out the words with undiscernable speed, throwing sometimes short dances of the eyebrows which were betraying another thoughts than the told ones. If the "Savior" was situated at the dark colours and themes' pole, this guy was at an angle of 180 degrees from his apartament-college. By observing the sounds produced by the graceful movements of the corners of his mouth, I could bet that he had pure Australian origins, his accent looked like aphrodisiac for every woman. My eyelids were knit to the unreal sight , I was confessing that for the first time in my life I was intregating in a hidden comunity full of imigrants, found in the trouble like I do : the wish of remarking itself in a bright future.

The speech was heading in the way it was concepted, following the well-proposed standards. Like I could have guessed, the script was taking its course , so without a little wait, the third "questions' knight" entered the scene to expose his point of view, completely the same with the previous pattern. They started to provoke me cold shiver on the spinal line.

"Just the fact that he is chasing us, should worry us. With his armed band, he is threatening our throats from every angle and everytime he desires" afirmed roughly the aparently difuse personality, camuflable of the boy with a platinum blonde hair, the single imperfection was the the darker roots, but how it's said : the mistakes are humanly. He was wearing neglectful his short and fulfilled arms, glued to his body, being too shy to drop a puss, maybe just my presence was hardening the posibility of slackening. The spirits were calming down progressively, but for my pure surprise, no one was forcing his intelect to discover me. Probably in their hacked minds, were boiling preconceived thoughts about who I am.

"Who is she? " told aloud and somehow on an irritated tone the last person, a short girl with chestnut, glowing hair, privated from fame because of the round glasses, a little out of vogue , anyway with a slight air of vintage style. Her voice with a sorely timbre was inversely-proportional with the exterior building, a reason which was supporting the quote : "Don't judge a book after its cover". Everyone's eyes filled with curiosity, especially the ones of the represantants' feminine beauty, because we all know that a postmark of the women' gallantry is the desire of knowing.

"She was wandering confused on the street when she was almost assaulted by Nives" piped without a little dishonour the fact that he was proclaiming the hero of the dirty, abandoned streetsof the neighborhood with the still unknown name. In conclusin, I was finding myself in the other corner of the world, surrounded by strangers, a landscape that everyone should to keep off carefully. On the contraire, I started to love it.

"Can you assign to know your name, sweetheart? Or are we standing on the anonymus' call?" affirmed on a relaxed tone the cadet number 1.

"Foxes" I answered dry, realizing moments later that I was already omitting the truth about who I was.

"Cuuuute! " she exclaimed annoying, prelonging the middle vowel a little over the allowed limit. "I assume that's a nickname, right? " she added, sounding incisive.

I nodded aprovingly, with a dark shadow of red invading the cavity of my cheeks, triggering a large smile on the face which was spotted with moles and bathes in pale traces of sun-tan.

"McKayla" she presented amically, blinking her eye, somehow casual. "But if we go on nicknames, I want to be called Raspberry. The motif is obvious".

The presentation was flooding slowly, gently, we were connecting thorugh a bond in the proper meaning of the word.

"I'm Morgan, but ocasionally I'm called August, the month I was born. My mother made the supreme sacrifice, brought me to see the day light and then she decided unwillingly to watch me from the heaven".

I was profound moved by his last quotes. I found out that I wasn't the single one from this world with a this flaw, I discovered that the relieving was hiding in the green branches of the pain, hidden centric, which in the decor was glowing, but our poisoned, hiponotized hearts were ignoring it, missing their chance to future happiness.

"My name is Robert, but differntly from the others, I'm a little more realistic and my nickname is Sir C, you know from the Spanish mitology" he added with a hint of nervosy to open his soul in front of the strangers.

I was intreted by little last girl who was living in her won world, isolated from the informations' fluctuation.

"I'm Dee, and my nickname is constituated from the initial JL. The one who you should thank to because freed you from possible nightmares and consequences is Adam or Adventure". That girl was hiding something in her aura and I wanted to find out what.

"With what ocassion over here? " McKayla inquired, revealing her chatty side.

"I'm looking forward to find my fullfilness" I said half-smiling, paraphrazing some celebre words.

I was feeling emancipated, despite the fact that a bunch of questions were standing in my road to find the charming gardens that keep the ideal in the terrestrial world.

**Author's Note : **I'm changing my updating day to Saturday, because I'm starting a science course on this Monday and I'll be kinda busy. Chapter 4-21st September!


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